


She was dancing

by NamparaMyHome (Cormelas)



Series: Betwixt [3]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: (1x03), Canon Dialogue, F/M, Original dialogue; Canon-connected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:04:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cormelas/pseuds/NamparaMyHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was dancing.  It was the first time Ross had seen Demelza enjoy herself among the company of others.  They had not any parties at Nampara.  She had no friends to the house.  She did know Jim Carter and was now dancing at his wedding party.  But she kept looking off to find Ross.  And he could not take his eyes off of her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She was dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the estate of Winston Graham, various publishers including but not limited to Pan Macmillan and the BBC.
> 
> Notes: The story occurs between the scenes of the Poldark 2015 episodes as aired on the PBS US broadcasts, which are disappointingly shorter than the BBC episodes. I have not read the books, nor do I know what happens in future episodes when the B/TWS are written. My apologies for inaccuracies based on later canon.

She was dancing.  It was the first time Ross had seen Demelza enjoy herself among the company of others.  They had not any parties at Nampara.  She had no friends to the house.  She did know Jim Carter and was now dancing at his wedding party.  But she kept looking off to find Ross.  And he could not take his eyes off of her.

Demelza easily fell in with the miners and families of the village.  She had grown up in a town with the same types of folks.  Who she did not have the opportunity to meet were the high-born.  She only saw them on the streets of Truro, and they looked down their noses before turning a blind eye to her.  All save for Ross Poldark, and “save” was the very word to use.  He had saved her, and Garrick, from a brutal whim to entertain those who had looked down on her.

Almost a year had gone by since he brought her to Nampara.  Many things had happened in that time.  She learned to cook and mend and launder and clean chickens.  She bargained for fish at the fishmonger.  She began to learn her letters.  She sang in the tall grasses and watched the sea from the high cliffs.  And she had grown to love her master for all that he was. 

At first she was merely smitten.  Who wouldn’t be?  Ross Poldark had ladies paying calls despite his lack of means.  He still had a name and land and those dashing good looks.  But he paid no heed.  He threw himself into his land and his homestead.  Repairs and maintenance were required at every level.  There was no time for being a gentleman and certainly no time for would-be brides. 

Ross could dance.  He had not reason to do so since the Assembly Ball where he danced the Quadrille with Elizabeth, only to have Verity shoo him away to keep people from talking.  Damn the high-born society for their evil thoughts and words.  If he wanted to dance with her, why should that start venomous tongues wagging?  If he wanted to dance right now he could and no one would think twice. 

He continued to watch Demelza, and after catching her wink at him (at least that’s what he thought he saw), he wanted to dance.  A small grin formed on face as he came to the decision.  To want to dance, to feel light enough to be festive, such would not have been the case without Demelza in his life.  His life was not what he thought it would be, but it was of his own making.   He had made Jim’s and Jinny’s life together possible.  He brought hope to those who would labor in his mine.  He had things to be happy about and felt like celebrating.  He tucked into the circle of revelers opposite Demelza, in order to keep her in his gaze.  She made eye contact and smiled.  That made Ross smile.  It was infectious, her smile was.  He needed to be infected.  He was weary of being worried and bothered.  It had aged him in ways the war did not.  The brutal realities of war and Cornwall in recession were burdens others did not share.  But Demelza had come to understand what troubled him, and that he could put those behind him and dance elated her.

They rode his horse back to the house after the wedding party.  It was dusk and the crickets were chirping in the grass.  Jinny and Jim were starting their new life together in a room in a hovel, but it was theirs to mind and call home.  Ross was retiring to a house that lacked the feeling of a home, except in one way – Demelza.  She kept fresh flowers about, made the kitchen smell heavenly, cleaned the windows to let in the sunlight, fluffed the dog-eared pillows, and tended the hearth.  Everything in the house that was homier was because of her. 

Demelza was humming to herself on the back of Ross’s saddle.  This was the first trip they had taken on horseback with her riding side-saddle behind him.  Previously she had ridden in front of her master astride the horse, either under her skirting or in her brother’s knee britches.  But on their last journey to town Ross had purchased Demelza a cloak and had a modest dress made for her.   It was the color of deep honey and it complimented her figure in quite a striking manner.  Ross had noticed immediately how such a simple thing made her shine.   Demelza was no longer the scullery maid, but a more refined housekeeper. 

On the way to the wedding, Demelza held Ross around the mid-section with such awkwardness, he was unsure she would still be there when he dismounted.  On the return journey, she was much more at ease because at the wedding she had drunk ale with the rest of the party, and had a light, fuzzy feeling at the moment.  She nearly lost her balance when the horse reared after a turtledove was driven from its nesting spot on the roadside.  Demelza grabbed at Ross’s lapels to steady herself.

“Hang on, Demelza.  I don’t want you rolling off into the moor grass.”  Ross stiffened slightly as Demelza reached around to his chest with her left arm and over his right shoulder with her right arm, clasping her hands against his chest to hang on. Her clasped hands were just below his chin.  He wanted to rub his chin stubble on the inside of her wrist to tickle her, but refrained.  He drew his hand toward his neck to touch her forearm,  but again stopped short.  Then he felt her lay her head across his left shoulder blade.  He wanted to feel her cheek with his skin, but the jackets and shirt waist were between them.  He sighed a contented sigh that he instantly regretted.  Could she have heard it, or worse, felt it with her head on his shoulder?  What would she think? 

Demelza had not only felt it, she absorbed it.  His breathing was something she was attuned to from sitting many a night on the floor on the rug at his feet in front of the fire.  Hearing him breathe gave her great comfort.  Hearing him sigh as he did, while she was connected to him in a way she dared not in the past, it made her heart swell.  Her master was content.  That was what she worked hardest for, his contentment.  She closed her eyes, let the fuzzy feeling rise inside her and began to sing a playful tune.

Garrick met them at the edge of the middle field, barking at the prancing horse.  “Garrick!  It be we!  No cause for alarm!”  Demelza playfully scolded the scruffy dog.  Ross stopped the horse to prevent Garrick from startling the mare and Demelza released her grip.  She gracefully slid off the back of the saddle, landed on her feet but dropped to her knees and threw her arms around Garrick.  She continued her singing and Garrick woofed appreciatively.  She began to skip in circles.  Ross laughed as she frolicked.  He led the horse in circles around the girl and the dog, weaving back and forth across the expanse of grass.

When they reached the house, Ross had a request before he opened the door.  “Demelza, would you please light the fire in the library while I change.  I have some work to do.”

“Oh, sir, not tonight, you shouldn’t be working after having such a grand time at the wedding party.  You’ll spoil your good mood!”  Demelza was bold.  She was telling him what he should do and why.

Ross was in a good mood, but didn’t really plan on working.  He just used that as an excuse to have her stoke the fire in the library.  He planned to come in while she was engaged in her task and change his request to have her sit on the rug and allow him to read to her.  He could normally get her to volunteer to practice her letters with him, but he wasn’t so cruel as to make her focus on books after a few cups of ale.  Reading to her would be a new experience.  He wanted to have a reason to stay with her.  He was infected and losing sight of her would pain him.

“Good mood?  You assess my mood as good?  You are still keen in senses despite those cups of ale.”  Ross teased.

“Cups? I had but one cup!” she protested.

“And I saw it being filled on three separate occasions.”  He had her there.  But he had also given her too much information.  He had been watching her, and this proved it.

She opened her eyes wide and pursed her lips.  No answer to that.  He saw her mock indignation and chuckled.  They were flirting, he thought, and he enjoyed it.  She seemed to be as well.

They both were giggling as they entered the kitchen to find Prudie and Jud passed out at the kitchen table.  Ross pushed the door shut with a loud _bang_ to disrupt their slumber. 

“A letter,” slurred Prudie, “A letter come from Trenwith.”  She waived the paper in Ross’s direction as he picked up the bottle on the table and held it up to inspect how no drop had been left behind by this feckless duo.  Demelza was donning her apron over her dress and preparing to tend to Ross’s request.

Ross opened the letter and read.  His face changed as he lowered his glass clumsily to the table.  “Francis and Elizabeth have a son,” he told everyone, but no one in particular, while discarding the letter to the floor as if it were poison.  Demelza felt her heart drop to her stomach.

Ross strode out of the kitchen with the light in his eyes snuffed out and the joy knocked out of him.  Demelza grieved for her master, for the mood swing he had just endured, and for his heart ache.  “ _How does she keep hurting him so_?” Demelza thought.  She wanted to ease his pain, but she knew to let him go.  She stoked the fire in the library, but Ross did not enter while she was there.  She busied herself with her evening chores, and listened for any sign of his turning in.  When she finally slid into bed, she thought to herself that if given the chance, she would provide whatever solace and comfort she could to Mr. Ross. 

Ross sat in his bedchamber after leaving the kitchen in a fog.  He had just been happy, truly happy, for the first time in so long he could not remember.  And it was ruined.  Elizabeth and Francis and their son ruined it.  _No_ , he thought, _I ruined it_.  Demelza had brought him joy and mirth and a flutter to his pulse and a recurring yearning.  Why should he let his cousin’s wife dampen that feeling?  It was not his cousin’s wife, or their child or even their marriage that crushed Ross’s spirit.  It was his feeling of isolation and indifference to the entire lot of gentle society.  Francis and Elizabeth were behaving and living a life of society’s making – marry well, have a son, carry on the family and the whole damn charade starts all over again.

Ross wanted none of that.  He was the only child of the second son and had the lesser of the land because of it.  He was damn lucky he had any land at all.  He had an honorable family name, but his family was slipping further away from their roots.  Was it the lack of hearty stock in the gentry that caused Francis to be so spineless and jealous?  Was it the demands of high society that caused Elizabeth to “settle” into her future role as mistress of Trenwith? 

The rum had numbed Ross’s ache, and he decided to take stock in what pleased him.  He quietly crept from his room to the library – he knew Demelza slept in the kitchen below his own bedchamber.  He crossed the hall and opened the library door, circling the room.  The fire Demelza had stoked had long burned out.  He glanced around at the clutter, _These are all but objects_.  Ross felt no pleasure.  He descended the stairs to see if the parlor fire was still aflame.   As he passed the kitchen, he saw the soft glow from the kitchen hearth and gently pushed on the door.  On the rug in front of the fire, where he had seen her brushing her hair months before, Demelza was asleep with Garrick.  _She has a bunk yet she sleeps on a rug_.  Ross shook his head.  Demelza was the opposite of “society” but she was as gentle as they came.  Just looking at her made him smile.  He finally had his empty heart filled with pleasant thoughts.  Just earlier that same day, she had been dancing.  And in his dreams that night, she was dancing.

 

 


End file.
